


Did It Hurt (When You Fell From Heaven)

by Winter_of_our_Discontent



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bad Pick-Up Lines, Charlie Bradbury (mentioned) - Freeform, Episode: s04e17 It's a Terrible Life, First Meetings, M/M, Sam Wesson (Mentioned)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-27 01:21:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7597870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winter_of_our_Discontent/pseuds/Winter_of_our_Discontent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spontaneous. He’d show them spontaneous. He was Dean Robert Smith, he could handle a two week juice cleanse, his cholesterol was perfect, he flossed daily, he was a Junior Vice President of Sales at Sandover Inc, he could completely freaking do spontaneous, okay?</p>
<p>He froze twenty feet from the entrance.</p>
<p>He was so losing this bet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Did It Hurt (When You Fell From Heaven)

Spontaneous. He’d show them spontaneous. He was Dean Robert Smith, he could handle a two week juice cleanse, his cholesterol was perfect, he flossed daily, he was a Junior Vice President of Sales at Sandover Inc, he could completely freaking do spontaneous, okay?

 

He froze twenty feet from the entrance.

 

He was so losing this bet.

 

There was nothing wrong with having structure and routine in your life. Hell, it had gotten him this far, hadn’t it?

 

Even from here he could tell that the Roadhouse was packed, though he had no idea if it was always like that or just on Halloween. The place looked like a total dive, but Charlie swore by it (probably because she was dating one of the bartenders). Crowded, dark, full of sweaty drunk people in stupid costumes...

 

He checked his wrist. He was due to meet Charlie and Sam inside at ten, only a few minutes away. And if he didn’t meet them, costumed and ready to ‘relax a little, for once’ he’d not only lose the bet, he’d never hear the fucking end of it.

 

Dean squared his shoulders and re-tilted his fedora. He may have been shit at spontaneous, but he was damned if he wasn’t always punctual. He could do this.

 

The Roadhouse was crowded, but not so crowded that he couldn’t see that his friends weren’t there yet. Knowing Charlie, she was probably still making sure she got her costume--  _ ‘It’s cosplay, Dean’ _ \-- right. Or making out with her girlfriend someplace. He shuddered a little. The thought of anyone making out in one of the bathroom stalls here-- and this seemed exactly like the kinda place where people had drunken hookups in the bathroom-- was just disgustingly unhygienic. Who knew how often they cleaned in there?

 

Dean pulled out his phone to check for messages. Nothing from Charlie yet, but there was one from Sam saying the head of IT had made him stay late to run tech support for a meeting. Figured. Dean turned the camera function on and posed for a selfie, making sure that both his completely awesome Indy outfit and some of the bar decor was visible, then sent it to both of them. 

 

At least now if he couldn’t take it anymore and had to leave he’d have proof he’d been here on time and in costume. There. See? Spontaneous.

 

In the meantime, he was getting a drink.

 

His efforts to politely elbow his way to the bar quickly turned into much less polite efforts turned into gentle shoving, but eventually he did get to the damn bar.

 

“Got any good cabernets?” he yelled over the din at the bartender. 

 

She gave him a very unimpressed look and moved on to help someone else vying for attention. “This ain’t a wine bar, Indy.”

 

“Microbrews?” 

 

She grunted, jerking her head in the direction of a beer menu above the bar. 

 

“The IPA?”

 

He turned around, beer finally acquired, and made his way to the least occupied corner he could find. Dean used to have a higher tolerance, but they’d been short-staffed on the Turner project since the last merger, and beer was all empty calories anyway; he hasn’t had anything more than the obligatory single-glass-of-merlot-at-a-business-dinner in months. In consequence, Dean was already feeling a lot more mellow by the time his glass was empty.

 

Mellow enough to consider trying to break his other dry spell.

 

Wasn’t like there was a lot of time for dating right now, and hookups made him nervous, too many unknown factors. But hell. He was out, he looked badass, and he was being ‘spontaneous.’ No time like the present, since there was still no sign of Charlie or Sam.

 

Especially when there was a guy back at the bar with piercing blue eyes who kept staring at him. It was more a staring-through-you than bedroom eyes, but he’d done more with less back during his undergrad days.

 

Dean made his way over, weaving through the other patrons to stand at the bar next to the guy, like he hadn’t come over just to talk to him.

 

The lights were dim enough that Dean couldn’t get a great look at him, but he liked what he could see. About his height with dark, mussed hair, stubble covering a jawline he wouldn’t mind cutting himself on, and the aforementioned eyes. Dressed as a bi comic book character, which was promising.

 

“You supposed to be John Constantine or something, dude?” Dean said, gesturing at the man’s trenchcoat and badly tied tie combo. It had him itching to reach out and fix it. Maybe something nice and classic, like a half windsor. Maybe he’d just pull the tie off him entirely and find another use for it.

 

“I am an Angel of the Lord.” The man had a nice voice, low and gravelly, to go with his nice everything else.

 

“No wings?” Dean asked, trying and failing to not picture the man in a Victoria’s Secret angel getup.

 

His new friend looked slightly affronted. “Of course I have wings. They’re currently on another plane of existence invisible to the human eye.”

 

Dean mentally gave him points for creativity _ and  _ sense of humor. “So, angel… did it hurt when you fell from heaven?” he asked, hitting the guy with his best Indy smirk. It was a cheesy line, but hey, the classics were classic for a reason, right? 

 

“It was excruciatingly painful,” the man answered, still deadpan. “I hit the ground with the force of a several ton meteorite.”

 

“In that case, buddy, I am definitely buying you a drink,” Dean said, winking at him before turning to signal to the bartender for two more beers. He turned back to see the man still staring at him, head tilted to the side like he was trying to figure Dean out. 

 

“Dean,” he said, sticking his hand out.

 

The man stared for a too-long moment before shaking it. “Castiel.”

 

“So, I couldn’t help but notice you eyeing me earlier.”

 

“I apologize. Your soul is very bright. It stood out from across the room.”

 

“Hey, I’m not complaining,” Dean said, grinning as he passed Castiel one of the beers. “You’re not so bad yourself. So what brings you here tonight, angel?”

 

Though it had been only a few seconds, the glass Castiel set down was almost empty. He’d downed it quickly enough that he had a slight foam mustache. “I am attempting to ‘drown my sorrows in alcohol’,” Castiel informed him, making air quotes around the last half. “I’ve been informed that that is the traditional way of dealing with disappointment or failure.”

 

“Family trouble? Job trouble?”

 

“I suppose it would be considered both.”

 

“Ah, the family business.” Dean leaned forward slightly. Castiel didn’t move away. “I was all set to join my family business. Dad owns an auto repair shop back in South Dakota, figured I’d help him run it. And then one day he said he’d kick my ass from here to the Pacific if I even thought of not going to college and making something of myself, and that he and Mom would do just fine in Sioux Falls while Jo and I went off to conquer the world.”

 

“He sounds…” Castiel looked like he was trying to find an appropriate word.

 

Dean laughed. “Yeah, Dad’s a character. Mom too. But we always knew they loved us and supported us.” He leaned forward just a bit more and lowered his voice as though imparting a secret. “Let me tell you something, Cas, is it cool if I call you Cas?”

 

Castiel nodded.

 

Dean continued. “My dad likes to say family doesn’t end in blood, but it doesn’t start there either. If they’re not supporting you, I say screw ‘em. You deserve better.”

 

“You’ve only just met me.”

 

“Yeah, well, I’m in sales. I like to think I’m a pretty good judge of character,” Dean said, giving Cas a friendly nudge with his shoulder.

 

Cas smiled, a tiny tight lipped smile, but definitely a smile nonetheless. Dean’s own grin grew wider. “Can I buy you another beer?”

 

“You don’t need to, Dean, you’ve already been very kind.” 

 

“I want to,” Dean protested. “C’mon, you’ve had a shit day, it’s the least I can do. As a thank you for keeping me company tonight. Since my friends still aren’t here.” 

 

Cas nodded, and Dean turned to order another couple of pints. When he turned back, it was to find Cas had moved closer, staring at him with those fathomless blue eyes from about a foot away.

 

They stood like that, Cas staring and him staring back, until the bartender slammed the drinks in front of them.

 

“Beer’s here,” Dean said, not wanting to look away.

 

“Yes,” Cas agreed.

 

Dean finally broke eye contact to sip his drink. Cas mirrored him. “You here by yourself tonight? No girlfriend… boyfriend?” Dean asked, trying to play it casual.

 

Castiel nodded. “I don’t know anyone here.” 

 

Dean mentally high-fived himself. “Else, Cas. You don’t know anyone  _ else _ .”

 

Cas looked confused, then his expression brightened. “Yes, I know you now. Thank you, Dean. You’re a good man.”

 

Dean could feel himself blushing. “Nah, like I said, happy for the company. My friends made a big deal out of dragging me out of my condo tonight and then couldn’t be bothered to show up.”

 

“They sound like bad friends.”

 

“No, no, Charlie and Sam are awesome,” Dean replied, and then had to tell Cas about the time Charlie dragged them all LARPing, or the time they celebrated Sam’s birthday at a Plucky Pennywhistle’s. Castiel listened attentively, like he really thought Dean’s stories were interesting, like he really thought  _ Dean _ was interesting, and that, even more than the beer, was giving Dean a pleasantly warm, tingly feeling.

 

“So how’s that drowning your sorrows thing working out?”

 

“I don’t think the alcohol is having much of an effect on me,” Cas said sadly.

 

“Well, we could try something stronger, or…”

 

“Or?”

 

Dean waggled his eyebrows. He really hoped he was reading the situation right. “Well, not for nothing, but the last person who looked at me like you’ve been looking at me… I got laid.”

 

“Laid?”

 

“Y’know, uh, sex,” Dean said, feeling his face heating up. Shit, shit, abort---

 

“Oh, you meant sexual intercourse,” Castiel said. “You’re offering to have sexual intercourse. With me.”

 

Dean winced slightly. “Uh, just as a piece of advice, don’t call it that.”

 

Cas tilted his head to the side consideringly. “What should I call it?”

 

“Getting laid, having sex, roll in the hay, sleeping together, screwing-- ” Dean said, rattling off the first few that came to mind that weren’t ‘hide the salami.’

 

Cas’ blue eyes narrowed slightly, raking over Dean’s body, and in spite of the incredible unsexiness of the conversation, Dean could feel his body warming up again under the intensity of his gaze. “Dean,” Cas intoned, voice even lower and rougher than before, “would you like to have a screw in the hay with me?”

 

Dean swallowed. “Eh, close enough. My place?”

 

Dean was going home with a hot, sweet guy he’d just picked up at a bar. It was so…  _ spontaneous _ . He pulled his cellphone out of his bomber jacket. “Hey, before we go, smile for me? I want to send a pic to Charlie and Sam.”

 

***

 

Dean woke up on his side, back warm, head pounding. He immediately recognised the headache as a consequence of last night’s drinking and the goddamn sunbeam across his face as the blinds being dislodged. It took him a bit longer to identify the warm line against his entire back and wrapped around part of his midsection as his new friend from last night at the Roadhouse.

 

He grunted as he tried to move, but Castiel was keeping an iron grip on him. If it hadn’t been for his rather insistent bladder he’d have happily remained exactly where he was. It had been too damn long since he’d woken up with anyone else, and feeling Cas’ firm, warm body spooning him from behind… Dean wiggled slightly, just to confirm… yep, morning wood snugly pressed against Dean’s ass… was, internal discomfort aside, the best morning he’d had in far too long. Maybe he could talk Cas into a round three. Then there was this little place nearby he’d heard did an awesome brunch with paleo options  _ and _ a juice bar...

 

“Comfortable,” Cas said, like a multisyllabic caveman. Clearly not a morning person.

 

Only the knowledge that they’d both have morning breath stopped Dean from tilting his head back to kiss him. “Yeah, big guy, I like it too, but I have a headache and I need to pee.”

 

“Comfortable,” Cas repeated. Dean felt fingers brush against his temple. There was a burst of...something as his headache and the pressure from his bladder both vanished. Weird. But awesome. Cas was weird but awesome. He should wake up with him more often. And if it meant more nights like last night he should go to bed with him more often too. 

 

Dean let out a small groan of relief. “If you can fix the light too you’re my new favorite person.”

 

“Will you stay put if I do?”

 

“An’ promote you to executive vice president of your side of the bed,” Dean said, snuggling back against the warmth of Cas’ chest and not thinking about the fact that he’d strongly implied a future in which Cas had a side of the bed. He felt his ears pop as though they were on a plane, and then there was a soft susurration as they were both cocooned in a blessed, deep darkness. Dean reached one hand up cautiously above him and hit a wall of soft... something. He pushed the fingers of his free hand in gently, exploring it by touch, and heard a quiet murmur of appreciation from behind him. 

 

It felt like feathers.

 

“Castiel?” Dean whispered. He could feel lips being pressed against the back of his neck, threatening to derail his thought processes. “This is…”

 

The lips started being combined with teeth, gentle nips, then a less gentle one at the juncture of Dean’s neck and shoulder. He shuddered. “Not helping.”

 

“I beg to differ,” Cas’s voice grumbled in his ear, before he worried the lobe with his teeth. His erection now pressed very firmly against Dean’s ass, moving in tiny circles. “I’m very helpful.” 

 

Dean felt his own dick, already at half mast, rising to the occasion. “Cas,” he said, slightly more emphatic. “What is this?” He raked his fingers through the whatever it was and Cas let out an actual moan. 

 

“I never imagined it would feel so good to have a human touching them.”

 

Dean froze, as a number of tiny clues from last night and this morning formed into a giant Voltron of clues which then hit him in the head with some form of weapon also made of clues.

 

“You weren’t kidding about that angel of the lord thing, were you? You’re actually an...” he swallowed. “You’re an angel.”

 

He can feel Cas freeze at his back, the canopy over their heads pulling back and letting greyish morning light fall over them. “I told you last night,” Cas said, voice shaded with worry. “Before you took me into your home. I didn’t lie to you, Dean.”

 

The fear in Cas’ voice has Dean snapping out of it, twisting his body around to face the angel. In the dim gray light of the bedroom he can see the outlines of the wings behind Cas, folded tightly against his back and peeking over his shoulders. He can just make out the nervousness on Cas’ face, and it had Dean reaching out to cradle it in his hands. 

 

“No, no, angel, it’s fine,” Dean said, voice gentle to match his hands. “Was just surprised is all.” 

 

Because this is the guy who listened to Dean’s stories like he really cared what he had to say, who took the time to learn what Dean liked in bed, who held Dean like he had no intention of letting go, and who Dean was already realizing he wouldn’t mind having stick around for a while.

 

So his one night stand and hopefully future boyfriend was a fallen angel. He was a workaholic who couldn’t be more than six feet from a bottle of hand sanitizer. Every relationship had its challenges.

 

Dean grinned. “You know, I had an aunt who used to tell me angels were watching over me. I don’t think this is quite what she had in mind, but I’m flexible. How do you feel about brunch?”

 

The angel Castiel lunged forward, pushing Dean onto his back and straddling him before kissing him with a fervor that was just on the right side of too much. From the sudden darkness surrounding them, Dean was guessing Cas’ wings had spread out to fan over them again, which was all the more reason to close his eyes entirely and concentrate on various other parts of Cas’ anatomy which were more immediately urgent.

 

After Dean finally dragged Cas out of bed to teach him about the importance of both adequate water pressure and of shower hand jobs, he checked his phone to find several texts from Sam and several dozen from Charlie.

 

Sam’s texts consisted of an apology for not making it to the bar last night, an offer to make it up to him this week, and a ‘who’s that guy?’ following the picture Dean had sent of him and Cas.

 

Charlie’s were rows of emoji hieroglyphics interspersed with all caps and punctuation ending with a demand for proof of life, sent in the early hours of the morning.

 

“Hey, Cas? How about this… We go out for brunch... it’s awesome, it’s like a really late, lazy breakfast with Bloody Marys. I’ll invite Charlie and Sam to come so you can meet them… they’ll love you… then we’ll come back here and you can tell me more about this angel deal,” Dean said.

 

He looked up from his texts to see Cas staring at him thoughtfully. “Will we have additional sex?” Cas asked.

 

“Abso-freaking-lutely.” 

 

“And after that?”

 

Dean smiled, the kind of smile that closed deals. “Well... you have a lot to learn about being human now, right? So you should probably hang around so I can teach you.”

 

Cas tilted his head at him. “Yes... I do have much to learn.”

 

“True,” Dean nodded. “Could take years. Decades, even. I’m generally more of a long-term planner.”

 

Cas smiled.

 

Dean leaned in to give him a brief kiss, because Cas’ smiles deserved kisses. “Let’s get going. It’ll be their treat.” 

 

Because Dean had totally won that bet.

 

And gotten himself a sweet, sexy boyfriend with wings.

 

Okay, so maybe he should be spontaneous more often.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I love Dean Smith, he's such a dork.
> 
> Thanks, forever and always, to reluctantabandon, porcupinegirl, and vulgarweed, who keep putting up with me.


End file.
